Percea Jackson, Sixth Grade Demigoddess
by Storychan
Summary: What if Percy and Grover and Chiron and Luke and every other guy from "The Lightning Thief" were girls? And Annabeth and Sally and Clarisse and all the other girls were guys? How would Percy's first adventure have been different? Canon pairings only.


Chapter 1: Makeup Saves My Life

Twelve year old girls aren't supposed to raise swords in battle. But I did.

How did that happen in a "civilized" place like New York? Well, you'd better sit down. It's a long story.

You wouldn't think I'd be a warrior. I'm a tiny slip of a thing, with long black hair that my dad Saul brushes like a doll's. My sea green eyes, though, give away that I _am _kind of a troublemaker.

So does the fact that I go to Yancy Academy, a school BUILT for troublemakers.

My name is Percea Jackson (Call me Perci) and trouble seems to follow me everywhere.

I hoped it wouldn't follow me on this particular field trip, though. My class at Yancy was going to the museum to check out some Greek and Roman stuff.

Normally I don't have the best luck with field trips but Mrs. Brunner, my Latin teacher, was on this one.

Mrs. Brunner's a middle aged woman in a motorized wheelchair with graying hair always in a pert bun with dimples and a brightly patterned sweater, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think she'd be cool, but she's a sweet old woman with a witty sense of humor and lets us play games in class, and even brings us all _baklava _every Christmas. She also has an awesome collection of chic Roman clothes and accessories – which she even let me try on! -, so she's the only teacher who doesn't put me to sleep.

Anyway, I was determined not to give the poor woman any trouble on this trip. But this total jerk from my class, a ginger-headed clown called Nate Bobofit, wouldn't stop shouting in his annoying Jersey accent to my best friend, Grove.

"Hey Underwood!" he called. That's Grove's last name. "Take off ya hat!"

Grove has an oversize Bob Marley –type hat, which she wears all the time (even when she's sleeping – I know because we're roommates). I think it's like a security blanket for her, or something. Grove's a pretty shy girl – she's petite and pretty easy to make cry. I also think she was held back a few grades, because she's the only sixth grader with acne and DD's.

"C'mon, Cow Boobs Underwood, do it!" Nate yelled.

I hate when people make fun of Grove because of her chest. It's not her fault her body's more developed than the rest of us. In fact, I'm kind of jealous of her. I'm still totally flat.

"Shut up, Nate," I growled. I'd worn a leather jacket today to look tough, which had taken weeks of babysitting to afford, even at the used clothing store down the street from school (most girls at Yancy wear designer brands and a lot of them make fun of me for my secondhand threads). I also had on a denim skirt, which was covered in patches because I couldn't afford a new one.

"Perci, don't," Grove warned. "I don't want you to get in trouble, and I know Nate has no problem hitting girls."

Looking back, Nate would've been easier to fight than the person who I actually did, once we got to the museum.

Things started out ok – Mrs. Brunner was showing us a _stele_, an ancient gravemarker. I tried to listen to what she was saying but nobody would stop talking. When I told them to ssshhh, Mr. Dodds gave me the evil eye.

He's my pre-algebra teacher. He wears a leather jacket like he thinks he's a Hell Angel, but the dude's like 50. Come on! Anyway, he's from Georgia and showed up in the middle of last semester when the previous teacher had a nervous breakdown.

The real problem though is he thinks Nate's the best and I'm devil spawn. Whenever he comes up to me and smiles, "Now, darlin'…..", I know I'm going to have detention for a month.

Once, after he'd made me write lines for like two hours, I told Grove I didn't think the guy was human. She looked at me real serious and replied, "You're absolutely right."

Mrs. Brunner, anyway, was still discussing Greek funeral art.

"Look at that statue of that mermaid," Nate sniggered, pointing to a different section of the Greek exhibit. "You can see her _boobs_."

OK, first he talks about Grove's boobs and now this? The boy is freakin' booby obsessed. And I think it was upsetting Grove. Nobody upsets my friend.

"Can you please just _shut up?!_," I told him. It came out louder than I meant it to. Everybody started laughing and Mrs. Brunner stopped her story. "Miss Jackson," she asked, "did you have something to add?"

"No, ma'am," I muttered, blushing and staring down at my holy shoes. Mrs. Brunner pointed at a picture on the _stele _she'd been discussing. "Can you tell me what this is, Perci?"

I looked up. Luckily, I knew this one. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"That's right," Mrs. Brunner smiled. "And why did he do that?"

"Umm…" I wracked my brain to remember. "Kronos was the king god.."

"God?"

"Umm, I mean Titan, sorry!" I said, shaking my head. "And….he didn't trust his kids, the actual gods. So, he ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. Later, Zeus grew up and tricked Kronos into barfing up his brother and sisters…"

"Eewww," said a girl behind me.

I've never been a girl who gets grossed out easily. If I were, the smell around my house would make me puke.

So, ignoring the prissier girl behind me (she was one of the little snots who showed up in a fur coat), I continued, "So the Titans and gods fought, and the gods won."

"Mrs. Brunner, why we gotta know this?" Nate grumbled. "I mean, it ain't gonna say on our job applications, 'explain why Kronos ate his kids', is it?"

"Good question, Mr. Bobofit!" Mrs. Brunner replied. "Miss Jackson, why _does _this matter in real life?"

I thought about it, but I didn't have an answer. "I don't know, ma'am," I admitted with an embarrassed shrug.

"I see," Mrs. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, I'll give you half credit, Miss Jackson! Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, causing Kronos to disgorge his other five kids, which, being gods, had been growing up perfectly fine inside the Titan! The gods defeated Kronos, sliced Kronos to pieces with Kronos' own scythe, and scattered the remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld."

I noticed Mrs. Brunner never called Kronos "him" or "he". Weird.

"On that happy note, class, it's time for lunch! Mr. Dodds, would you be a dear and lead us outside?"

The class began to exit the building (the guys, of course, being _total _doofuses.) Grove and I were about to follow when Mrs. Brunner called, "Oh, Miss Jackson!"

I knew it! I told Grove to go ahead without me, then addressed Mrs. Brunner, "Ma'am?"

Mrs. Brunner had this intense look in her brown eyes, of oldness. Not tired-old-lady-oldness. Seen-everything-and-is-haunted-by-it oldness. No idea where that came from. I figured Mrs. Brunner had led a pretty unexciting schoolmarm life.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mrs. Brunner told me.

"About the Titans, ma'am?"

"About real life," Mrs. Brunner replied. "And why your studies are going to be very important in it."

"Oh."

"What I have to teach you," Mrs. Brunner continued, "is very important, dear. I expect you to treat it as such. I expect the very best from you, Perci Jackson."

I wanted to get angry at this old woman, she expected me to be such a shining star.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool when she dressed up in a Greek _chiton _dress and shouted "Hark!" and challenged us, with free _baklava _as the prize, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person that ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mrs. Brunner expected me to do as good as everybody else, even though I have dyslexia and ADHD and have never made above a C- in my life and the other girls called me a total ditz. No, she didn't expect me to be _as good _– she expected me to be _better. _ And I just didn't get it.

I mumbled something about doing better, and Mrs. Brunner just kept looking at the _stele_ real sadly, like he'd been at that girl's funeral.

I left her alone and went to eat lunch.

Grove and I sat by ourselves, far away from Nate and the others, who I knew might pick on her. It looked like it was going to rain. (Man, the weather's been freaky lately. What is it, global warming or something?) I hoped it wouldn't. I had an umbrella, but it was old and ugly. The other girls had cute umbrellas, like, pink, or with Hello Kitty on them and stuff. I didn't want them to say something to me.

"Did you get detention?" Grove asked, eating her vegetarian meal. She loves animals – she's such a sweetheart. I hate that people are unkind to her.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I wish she'd give me a break sometimes – I mean, I'm not a genius."

Grove was quiet for a long time, and I thought she was going to say something really deep, or try to make me feel better. Instead, she asked, "Can I borrow your apple lip gloss?"

I knew she loved apple, so I let her take it.

I watched the cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought of my dad, who didn't live too far from here. I hadn't seen him since Christmas. If I ran away and went to see him now, he'd ruffle my hair and smile at me and be glad to see me, but he'd be disappointed, too. I've gotten kicked out of six schools and six years. I know I can't disappoint him by ditching another.

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nate and a bunch of his goon friends approached us. He picked up a marshmallow out of his lunchbox, squeezing it between his fingers. "10 bucks says if I throw this," he smirked, "it'll land between Underwood's giant cow boobs."

_Oh that is IT. _I tried to stay calm, count to ten like my counselor told me, but I was seeing some serious red. My mind went blank and a wave roared in my ears.

I don't remember touching Nate - I didn't think I'd still be standing if I had- but next thing I knew, he was sitting on his butt in a fountain, screaming, "Perci pushed me!"

Mr. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering. "Did you see-"

"The water-"

"Like it grabbed him-"

As soon as Mr. Dodds was sure Nate was alright – the tough guy was already shaking it off- he turned on me. There was a triumphant smirk on his face, like I'd just done something he'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, darlin'…."

"I know," I grumbled. "A month of writing lines."

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mr. Dodds demanded.

"Wait!" Grove called. "It was me! I pushed him!"

I stared at her, stunned. I couldn't believe she was trying to cover for me! Grove was _terrified _of Mr. Dodds.

Mr. Dodds looked Grove up and down. It was hopeless. Grove was a tiny girl – we all knew there was no way she was strong enough to push Nate. "I don't think so, Miss Underwood," Mr. Dodds glared.

"But-"

"Stay here and play with your Barbies, or whatever it is you _silly little girls _do."

Grove looked at me like she was about to cry.

"It'll be ok, girl," I told her. "Thanks for trying."

"Darlin'," Mr. Dodds snapped. "NOW."

Nate Bobofit smirked.

I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared. I put on a brave face. But when I turned back to Mr. Dodds, he wasn't there. He was all the way at the museum entrance, on the front steps.

How'd he get there so fast? Old men are supposed to be _slow._

Or it might just be my attention span. I said the other girls call me a ditz, and in a way, they're right. I have moments like this a lot, where my brain falls asleep or something, and I know I've missed something big. My counselor says it's part of my ADHD. But I honestly don't know.

I went after Mr. Dodds.

I looked back for a second at Grove, who looked like she might have a panic attack and was trying to get the attention of Mrs. Brunner, who was totally absorbed in the cooking magazine she was reading.

I looked back at Mr. Dodds, who had disappeared again, this time into the building. At first I thought he was just trying to get shelter from the rain, but he kept going deeper into the museum. He stopped at the Greek exhibit, staring up at a frieze of the gods like he wanted to punch it.

Even without that, I would've been creeped out. Umm, hello, I'm a little girl trapped in an empty, dark room with a creepy old guy!

But Mr. Dodds was being _especially _creepy, giving the marble gods a serial-killer stare.

"You've been giving us problems, darlin'," he said.

Trying to play it safe and get out of there as soon as possible, I replied, "Yes, sir."

He smirked and turned to me.

"Did you really think you would get away with it?"

Then I saw the look in his eyes, which was pure evil.

_Wait. _I thought. _He's a teacher, he won't actually hurt me, right?_

_Or maybe he's some kind of pedophile. Man, I wish I brought my Mace._

_No. I'm being stupid. He won't attack me..right?_

"We're not fools, Perci Jackson," Mr. Dodds growled. :"It was only a matter of time before we found out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what he was talking about.

Had the teachers found out I was selling gum out of my dorm and chewing it in class? Or that I hadn't actually read _Tom Sawyer _and got that essay off the Internet? Were they going to dock my grade? Or worse, make me read?

'Well?" he demanded.

"Sir, I don't…"

"Time's up," Mr. Dodds smirked.

Then the scariest thing happened. His eyes began to glow like hot coals and his finger stretched into claws. His jacket melted into giant, devilish looking wings. He wasn't human. He was a wizened old troll with bat wings and claws, and a mouth full of yellow teeth, and he was about to slice me to ribbons!

Then things got really strange.

Mrs. Brunner, who'd been in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled her chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a tube of lip gloss in her hand.

"Hark, Perci!" she shouted, and tossed the lip gloss tube through the air.

Mr. Dodds lunged at me.

With a shrill scream, I dodged and felt claws slash the air next to my ear, which I'd gotten pierced a month before. I snatched the lip gloss tube out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a tube of gloss anymore. It was a longer tube, made of bronze – a scabbard for the containment of swords, which Mrs. Brunner always wore to accessorize her _chiton. _

Mr. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in his eye.

I opened the scabbard –usually empty, or so I thought- to find a gleaming bronze sword!

I was shaking so badly that I almost dropped it.

Mr. Dodds snarled, "Die, darlin'!"

And flew straight towards me.

I was screaming like a little girl - I _am _a little girl – but I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

The shining blade hit his shoulder and sliced through his body like the knife I use to cook with at home for Dad slices through butter. _Hiss!_

Mr. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. He exploded into yellow powder, just blew up, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur, a dying growl, and a chill of evil in the air, like those creepy red eyes were still watching me.

I was holding a tube of lip gloss in my hand.

Mrs. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

I was shaking and felt tears sting my eyes. What just happened? Did Nate put magic mushrooms in my food or something?

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I went back outside, wiping my eyes.

It had started to rain.

Grove was sitting by the fountain, pulling her hat closer over her face. Nate Bobofit was standing there, still soaked, grumbling to his goons. When he saw me, he called, laughing, "Yeah, I knew it! Mr. Kerr made ya cry!

I said, "Who?"

"Our _teacher_, ya ditz."

I blinked. We didn't have a teacher named Mr. Kerr. I asked Nate what he was talking about.

He just rolled his eyes and led his posse away.

I asked Grove where Mr. Dodds went.

She said, "Who?"

But she hesitated, and wouldn't look me in the eye, so I thought she was messing with me.

"Not funny, girl," I told her. "This is serious, ok?"

A clap of thunder boomed overhead and Grove jumped.

I saw Mrs. Brunner just sitting there, reading her cooking magazine under an umbrella like she hadn't moved.

I went over to her.

She looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, you found my lip gloss, dear," she smiled. "I was looking all over for it.. Thank you for getting it back to me, Miss Jackson."

I handed Mrs. Brunner her tube of gloss. I hadn't even realized I still had it.

"Ma'am," I asked, "Where's Mr. Dodds?"

She stared at me blankly. "Who, dear?"

"The other chaperone. Mr. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

She frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned.

"Perci, there is no Mr. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mr. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright, dear?"


End file.
